TAG!: Whump-tober 2018
by MoustachingQuestions
Summary: 31 days of tormenting the Tracy family! A prompt a day dealing with dark themes. Will there be a happy ending? Will this series ever be completed? Who knows!
1. Chapter 1: Stabbed

And so it begins! Hello everyone! I meant to post these first five earlier, but life has been kicking my ass the last few days. But hopefully I can get these posted daily from here on out!

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

"Scott…" Gordon's voice lacked it's usual cheeriness. Instead it sounded quiet. Subdued.

 _Scared._

Immediately Scott's full attention was on his younger brother. He dusted himself off, standing and turning to where he knew Gordon was. Suspended between two massive hunks of debris, the remains of what once was a tall apartment building was now shattered glass and broken concrete. Under which people were still trapped. The aquanaut swayed slightly at the end of the cable, and even from a reasonable distance Scott could see the younger looking over to him.

"What is it, Gordon?" He responded, walking a little closer to the ledge. On the comms, Scott could hear his brother take a shaky breath, his hands clinging to the cable tightly.

"Something's wrong. I don't know what but I just- My squid sense is tingling."

"You're really focusing on that again?" Scot resisted the urge to sigh. "Gordon, this is serious."

"It hasn't been wrong yet." Gordon argued quietly.. "Can you just- Gimmie a hand back up? Please?"

This time, Scott did sigh. But with a tone like that, it was hard to argue big brotherly instinct.

"All right, I'll be right over. Just hold tight bro."

"F.A.B."

Stepping back slightly, Scott took a running start towards the ledge, jetpack roaring to life as he headed up to where his brother had began his descent. Rubble crunched under his boots as he strode over to the POD. Then he stopped.

"Gordon…" Scott spoke firmly, crouching beside the POD's cable reel. "Don't move."

The cable anchoring Gordon to the POD was frayed, strands of metal poking out in all directions as it was stressed. Scott watched as another strand gave out, pinging off the main cable with a muted sound.

"Can't do much else." Gordon replied, bobbling slightly as he shrugged.

"Stop it!" Scott snapped. "The cable's failing, we need to get you back up here!"

Gordon felt a chill run through him, colder than the water of the arctic. His breathing went shallow as his knuckles turned white, gripping the cable as tight as he could.

"No...Nononononono- I checked it! It was fine!" He shouted. "You're messing with me, it's fine!"

"Gordon, breathe." Scott told him, clambering up to the POD and slowly wrenching the cable back. His brother took a heaving breath before replying.

"I don't wanna die."

"Nobody said anything about dying, little brother." Scott told him sharply, watching the cable like a hawk as it crawled back over the edge. "You're gonna be fine. I promise."

There was a snap, like the crack of a whip in the silence of the rubble. Gordon's breath caught in his throat, barely a gasp escaping his lips as gravity suddenly took over. Scott dove from the POD over the ledge, jetpack flaring to life as he chased his falling brother. One hand wrapped around his grapple cable, halfway to raising it-

There was no thud. No heavy sound as ground met Tracy. Instead, there was a crunch, like crumpling a handful of dried leaves. Scott reared up on his jetpack as he watched, horrified.

Gordon was reaching for him, choked and broken whimpers spilling from his lips as amber eyes welled up with tears. He coughed, blood splattering across his uniform. The oxygen tank on his back hissed in agony, pierced clean through as Gordon went slack.

Amber eyes glazed over, unseeing, unfeeling. His body went limp, bowing like a dancer on the thick metal support stabbing through his chest. His mouth opened in a silent cry, blood pooling on the rubble beneath him.

It was Scott, that made the sound for him.


	2. Chapter 2: Bloody Hands

Another one bites the dust! I'm surprised I kept going with this. I have a tendancy not to finish the things I write. Sigh.

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

Bloody hands, make for bloody handprints. This much was obvious.

 _His_ hands, however, were not meant to be bloody. At least, not this much. But alas, when one must staunch their blood loss whilst bracing an aftershock, bloody hands are an inevitable conclusion.

It was an accident, in all truths. The girl had slipped. He had sprinted to catch her. The chunk of debris jutting out of the ground just happened to get in the way.

"Mister? You don't look so good…" Her voice was small, scared. She looked up at him with shining blue eyes, clinging to his free hand tightly. She looked so innocent, it hurt that such a thing was torn from her so early.

"I'll be fine." The words left his mouth before he realised he was speaking, gentle tones of reassurance as they carried on. "Don't worry."

"Okay."

Was Thunderbird Two always this far away? It seemed so close when he had departed. Yet now it seemed to live on the horizon, so close, yet so far.

His teeth made an obnoxious noise in his skull as they ground together, stifling another wave of pain and nausea as they walked.

"Almost there…" He muttered. "We're Almost there…"

The ground melted under heavy boots, and she squealed as he fell, knees cracking as they took the brunt force.

"Mister! Get up!" She cried, tugging fruitlessly on his arms. "You gotta get up! C'mon!"

"Yeah-" He grunted, hazel eyes squeezing shut for just a moment. "In- In a minute. Just gimmie-"

"You're bleeding!" Her squeals raised an octave, and beyond her he could see his old friend, patiently waiting, as always.

"I'll be fine..."

The world blurred into splashes of green and red, twisting like a snake. Her frightened squeals melted into a buzz of noise.

Then dropped into silence.


	3. Chapter 3: Insomnia

And then there were three! I'm really enjoying writing these, it's been a while since I got bit by the writing bug!

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

Thunderbird Five was never dark.

Even during the small hours, tiny lights flickered like stars in the lowered glow of the comms sphere. This was where he often found himself.

Night.

After night.

After night.

Bloodshot eyes watched the globe spin idly, as if sleeping itself. _Could planets sleep?_ He mused in the silence. John shook his head with a sigh.

The coffee in his hands was long cold, but he took a sip anyway, cringing at its chilled bitterness. Not enough sugar. Did he even add sugar this time? He couldn't remember.

Technically, he was supposed to be off-duty for going on to four hours now. Two of those, he had spent curled up in his quarters. Blue-green eyes boring holes into the wall as he laid on his side, waiting for sleep to decide whether or not it was going to claim him.

By the end of the second hour, he gave up. No less tired than when he had first settled. Sleep certainly was a fickle mistress, and evaded him at every opportunity.

So he was back on the clock. Scott was certainly going to berate him later but for now, he was the silent guardian, eternally watching over the world.

A world he idly turned over in his palms, weather patterns shifting and swaying under his fingertips. His eyes narrowed, glaring at a storm brewing on a distant horizon.

John hated storms. Even as a child, when thunder rattled across tiles on their Kansas rooftop, he would duck under his blankets. Wishing the monster up in the clouds to go away, to leave him alone with his shimmering stars.

All grown up, that monster up in the clouds still brought a tiny tremor of fear with it. Storms meant trouble. Storms meant danger. Storms meant that people got hurt. And he had been on the receiving end of too many of those calls.

Panicked cries, strained whispers and eventual silence, all things they had to bear. At least his brothers had the power to do something about it, a thought that left a bitter taste in John's mouth. They could be there, saving the day while he was hidden away, nothing more than a voice on the end of a call.

No wonder he found himself there, forever staring down at the world he could never fully protect, last words echoing in his ears each time sleep tried to claim him.


	4. Chapter 4: No, stop!

Something a little more lighthearted this time. Just because it's WHUMP-tober doesn't mean it has to be _all_ dark? Right? ...Right?

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

"And you're sure it's a tablespoon?"

"That's what the recipe says."

Kayo listened silently from the doorway, peering around every now and then at the scene unfolding. She knew something was up from the moment she had heard footsteps pad past her bedroom door in the early hours of the morning.

"A tablespoons a little big, isn't it?" The hushed conversation continued. There was a clink of metal against ceramic. Then a disgruntled huff.

"Just put it in the mixer already, bro."

"Aye aye, captain."

A shuffle of paper. The muffled whine of machinery.

"Gordon! Woahwoahwoahwait! No, stop!"

Kayo turned, standing in the doorway as she watched the fireworks. Both brothers had stumbled backwards from the kitchen counter, white coating their clothes and faces. Gordon scrubbed at his mouth, coughing as the mixture smeared round.

"I think that was a little more than a tablespoon." Kayo grinned as the pair flinched, slamming the cookbook shut with a great cloud of flour and doing their best to look innocent.

"What are you even doing up at this time? And _baking_?"

She paused, eyes narrowing as she studied them.

"You forgot to get Scott a birthday cake, didn't you?" She raised an eyebrow. The pair deflated with a sigh.

"We were gonna get one-"

"And then we kinda-"

"Forgot." Kayo finished for them, striding into the kitchen and thumbing open the cookbook once again. "Come on. We've still got a couple hours to fix this."

"Can we fix this?"

"You can bake?"

"Yes, and it's following instructions, so it can't be that hard. Now _please_ tell me we have enough ingredients left."


	5. Chapter 5: Poisoned

Nothing really to say about this one. Besides being a middle-of-the-night-I-almost-forgot piece. Oops.

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

"Excuse me!"

Virgil looked up, momentarily distracted from fixing the damaged POD as he heard someone shout. A few metres away, a woman trotted up to him. Her clothes were dirty, but well-tailored, clearly a lady of high class. Even in the mud, she moved with a sense of grace and ease in heels. He stood, dusting himself off as he strode to meet her.

"Ma'am, this is a restricted area. It's not safe to be here." He told her firmly. "I'm afraid you can't be here."

"I'll just be a minute!" She pleaded, brunette locks bouncing on her shoulders. "I just _had_ to see you!"

"Me?" Virgil raised an eyebrow. It wasn't unusual for rescuees to follow them during a disaster. But to actively seek them out after the emergency services had arrived made some tiny alarm bells in his head ring.

"Yes!" She pressed, stepping closer to him. Her finely painted nails attached themselves to his sash like claws. "I just wanted to say thank you! Thank you so much! If you hadn't- well- I don't know what I would have done!"

"Uh- You're welcome." Virgil answered, awkwardly trying to unhook her claws from him and gain some distance. "It's uh- all in a day's work." He cleared his throat. "But in all seriousness, you can't stay here. It's too dangerous."

"I know, I know. Just-" She seemed to hesitate, eyes flicking away from his for a moment.

And then she kissed him.

Virgil gave a muffled sound of surprise as he shoved her back, a little harder than necessary. His breathing was hard as he glared at her, stepping back. She, on the other hand, looked like a deer in headlights, mouth open as she quickly scampered off. As she disappeared, he scrubbed the lingering taste from his lips with his sleeve. Fruity, it left a vague and unfamiliar tingling sensation.

A wash of nausea tore across his gut from nowhere, body ten shades too hot as his head burst into pain. He stumbled back, world muffled through the cotton in his ears. His head felt like it was in a vice, winding tighter and tighter, making his gut twist painfully. Somewhere, he heard a shout, shapes- figures?- moving towards him. What was going on? He tried to step towards them, to call out.

His legs buckled, giving out and sending him tumbling to the ground. Virgil tried again to shout, to say _something_. But his chest was tight. Panic nipped at his heels as he fought to breathe- why couldn't he breathe? Darkness swam in the corners of his vision, enveloping him into nothingness as the world went still.


	6. Chapter 6: Betrayed

Six down, only twenty-five to go! Struggled with this one for a while, but I think I nailed it. As they say, one bad apple spoils the bunch...

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

"You…" Scott coughed, struggling onto his side. "How could you..?"

"Pretty easily actually." Alan shrugged nonchalantly. His boot met his eldest brothers shoulder hard, sending him sprawling onto his back.

The den was a mess. Machinery spluttered and groaned, sparking angrily from under the broken lights and across torn paintings. Glass littered the floor like diamonds, glinting in the fading light spilling in from the shattered lounge windows. Scott didn't even know the glass could break.

But as had been proven all day, Alan was full of surprises.

Embers licked the youngest's boots, crunching under his weight as he crouched beside Scott, relaxed. Almost smiling.

"You'd be surprised how many people would pay to get back at _International Rescue_."

Alan's voice was low, dangerous, spitting out their name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. The scorch marks across his suit and soot across his jaw made him look older, and his eyes. Cold, yet glowing with a masked sense of satisfaction.

"But you're one of us." Scott groaned, ribs burning in protest. "You're my brother, I-"

"I'm not one of you!" Alan snarled, fist slamming into Scott's cheek with a crack. His world blurred for a second as Alan caught his breath.

"I've never been one of _you_." The younger continued. "I was just a replacement. You needed a pilot when _he_ disappeared. I was the most convenient option. You've always treated me like I was nothing."

Alan stood, jamming his heel into Scott's side. Scott hissed, too weak to fight back.

"You can't go on this mission, Alan! You don't know what you're talking about, Alan! You're not _him_ , Alan!" He parroted, each earning another kick in Scott's ribs. Faintly, the elder was sure he felt another crack between blossoms of pain.

Then it stopped.

A shadow loomed over Scott as tears pricked his eyes. Something grabbed his throat, squeezing tightly as he choked. Hands pawed weakly as he was dragged up, hot breath ghosting over his brow.

"Well I'm _done_." Alan growled. "I'm not your convenience anymore. And I've got a new mission."

Suddenly, Scott was released, collapsing as footsteps began to retreat into the growing darkness.

"I'm going to _destroy_ everything that you stand for, big brother."


	7. Chapter 7: Kidnapping

_Technically_ I wrote this at 11pm, so it totally counts! Curse work for keeping me in all day. Ah well, here's day 7! Hope you enjoy!

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

"'Dis is a bad idea."

A heavy accent carried through the ghostly remains of a former city street. Two pairs of worn boots picked their way through rubble, keeping close to the shadows.

"Shuttup! And what be'er choice do we 'ave?" Another voice snapped, keeping between broken girders before ducking back behind a broken wall.

"You 'eard the bloke. We get the runt and he'll give us 's much cash as we can carry."

"Why th' runt though?" The first asked. "Bloke said 'e wanted any of 'em."

"'Cause e's easy pickin's! Kid always gets left on 'is own by the biggun's." The second huffed, voice raising in exasperation.

"Hello?"

"Shit!" The second hissed, yanking the first back as footsteps moved past them.

"Is anyone there?" Alan called out, looking around. "International Rescue! You can come out!"

"Whatdda we do?" The first asked quickly. The second tsked, shoving past his accomplice and into the light.

"Follow my lead." He murmured as he walked past. The other's voice rose several octaves in horror.

"But whadda you-?"

"Over 'ere!" The second yelled. Alan turned, surprised to receive an answer as a man approached him. For a disaster zone, the stranger was remarkably unscathed. Glancing him over, he didn't appear to have any injuries on his pale, almost translucent skin.

"Are you okay?" Alan asked him, ignoring the blatant alarm bells ringing in his skull. An impeccable man in a ruined city. The entire thing screamed suspicious. The stranger chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." He shrugged, quickly adding. "Uh- considering. Y'know."

"Didn't you hear the evacuation broadcast?" Alan frowned. "You can't be here. C'mon, I can get you back to the emergency crews and-"

"No, no!" The stranger answered quickly. "We was uh- just goin'."

"'We'?" Alan asked. The man eyes widened. His head whipped around snarling as another figure burst from behind a chunk of rubble. Alan had no time to react as a well-aimed fist collided with his gut, sending him stumbling back. A strong pair of hands gripped his wrists, and tight plastic soon bound them. Alan squirmed, unable to reach his comm. Knowing his siblings wouldn't be far, and with panic starting to settle in his gut, Alan shouted at the top of his lungs.

" _Scott! Gordon! Virgil!"_

"Shut 'im up already! Be'ore the bigguns come running!"

Another blow, hitting the back of his head hard enough to see stars. Alan cried out, quickly muffled by the dirty fabric stuffed between his teeth, effectively silencing him. His comm flared to life, making his attackers yelp in surprise.

"Alan! What's going on?"

"Are you okay?"

"Stay put! I'm coming after you!"

"Oh no, you ain't!" The ghostly man growled, jabbing something into Alan's sash. It gave a whine, and an electrical 'pop!'. And his brothers were silenced.

"Now we can do 'dis th' easy way," The stranger began, dragging Alan back to his feet. "Or I c'n knock yer ass out. Yer comin' with us. So start walkin'."

Given the options, it seemed like Alan was left with little choice.

Didn't stop him from headbutting his attacker, grinning as he gave a shout, clutching his nose.

"Fucker." He snarled, wiping the blood across his palm. He turned to his accomplice. "Hard way it is. Smith, knock him flat."

The last thing Alan heard was a distant shout as a final blow landed on his temple, and the hard ground catching his fall.


	8. Chapter 8: Fever

Written in the early hours of this morning, so who knows how bad this one is? Sickness and sarcasm go hand-in-hand.

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

"I think I'm actually dying."

"It's just a bug. You'll be fine." Virgil sighed, replacing the empty mug with another steaming brew. "Drama queen."

"No seriously. I'm actually dying and you're not helping." Gordon sniffled from under a mountain of blankets. "Some brother you are."

"I wasn't the one who thought swimming in the antarctic was a good idea." He chastised lightly. "I told you it would bite you on the ass."

"Actually, I think it's in my head." Gordon groaned. "Can I take any more painkillers yet?"

"If I give you anything else, you'll rattle." Virgil chuckled, passing his brother a tissue box. "No, you've still got a couple hours."

"I feel like I headbutted Two."

"I think you'd dent her if you did."

"Hey!" Gordon coughed, weakly glaring at the elder as he hunkered down on his bed. "Feed me."

"I'm not your maid."

"You keep bringing me medicine and replacing my drinks. You're totally my maid."

"That's called being a nice brother."

"Maid."

Another cough, making his chest wheeze.

"Is the island always this cold?"

"It's just you, bro." Virgil answered, sitting on the edge of the bed. "At least you don't have to go on missions for a while."

"But it's so boring!" Gordon whined, slumping further under the mountain. "I can't go in the pool 'cause I feel like I'm gonna hurl, and I can't hang out with Al 'cause I don't wanna get him sick too. I'm basically quarantined in here until I stop dying."

"Drama queen."

"This is actually worse than the time I was quarantined." Cough. Sniffle. "At least then I actually had someone to hang out with."

"So I don't qualify as 'someone'?"

"You know what I mean." Gordon reached blindly for the mug on his beside. He would have tipped it over if Virgil hadn't grabbed it, passing it to him.

"Aren't you worried you'll get sick though?"

"Not really." Virgil shrugged. "I used to look after you guys all the time when you got sick. Remember?"

"Oh yeah," Gordon smiled, quickly growing somber. "After Mom…"

There was a beat of silence.

"You think she would have liked it here?" Gordon asked quietly. "I mean, Dad built this place for her and all…"

"She would have loved it." Virgil answered. "She's the one who pointed out the island in the first place."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You and Johnny were really small back then. But I remember her and Dad talking about moving." He laughed. "I think she took us on vacation here, once. Then when…" He paused, looking away for a moment.

Gordon sniffled, handing Virgil his mug. Then let loose an enormous sneeze, knees jerking up to his chest.

"Thanks."

"Don't worry about it."

"...So are you gonna feed me or what?"

"Oh sure! I think Grandma just finished making chicken soup. I'm sure she'll bring some up."

"I really hope you get sick too."


	9. Chapter 9: Stranded

I'm late! I'm late! For a Whump-tober date! No time to edit, we post like mne! I'm late! I'm late! I'm late! Sorry guys... -_-

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

Of all the places to get lost, it _had_ to be the desert.

Scott hated the desert.

Most would argue that he would be accustomed to blistering heat and blinding sunshine, but as he would argue. A tropical island had a monsoon season, and generally was a lot wetter than miles of sand. He grumbled, kicking the sand at his feet and mumbling a curse about it getting into his boots.

Why did people think it was a good idea to go treasure hunting in the middle of nowhere? At least he was closing in on the signal. After a thorough lecture about desert safety and a long drink of water, Scott couldn't wait to head back to the island. For once, he would be glad if it was still raining when he returned.

 _Alright, so just around this dune should be…_

A box. Specifically a metal box. Blasting out a distress signal going straight to his comm. Scott's brow furrowed as he gave the item a light tap with the toe of his boot.

It didn't explode. Good start. He crouched down, carefully picking the item up, turning it over in his palms.

"I found the source of the distress signal, Thunderbird Five."

Silence. Strange, but not unusual. John was probably helping Virgil with his own rescue.

"Looks like some kind of transmitter. Looks like there's no one else around."

Scott stood. Just then, the box made a miserable whirr. And just as soon as it started, the distress signal stopped.

Scott was suddenly aware of the low purr resounding through the sand, a distant rumble that was as familiar as his own voice. He whipped around, dropping the transmitter as feet pounded back the way he came. Fingers fumbled with his comm as he skidded down a sizeable sand dune.

"Thunderbird Five! What's going on?"

Scott's comm crackled, fizzing and popping as it fought for a connection. Scott growled, turning on his heel to skirt around another dune.

"John! What's happening? Talk to me! Thunderbird Five!"

Thunderbird One was in sight. Her silvery hull gleaming in the scorching heat, like a beacon to an oasis in miles of sand. She promised shelter, protection.

And her engines were just starting to kick in as Scott hurried towards her.

"John!" He shouted one final time, scrambling to try and reverse the commands. It was then that a low chuckle echoed through his comm, cold and haunting and oh-so-familiar.

"I'm afraid your dear brother is a little busy right now." A devilishly smooth voice taunted him. Scott stopped dead in his tracks.

"The Hood." He growled. A wave of brotherly instinct, worry and rage tore across his stomach. "What have you done with John?"

" _I_ haven't done anything with him." The Hood answered innocently. Scott could almost feel the catlike grin on his enemy's features, yellow eyes gleaming as he continued. "But I do believe my Havoc was responsible for giving his little friend a _bug._ "

Scott's blood ran cold as his eyes widened. EOS. John had explained how after the escapade at the global seed vault, Havoc had somehow corrupted her systems. _A simple virus presenting itself as a cold,_ he had said. _She'll recover, she always does._

But if she hadn't… If that virus had spread… John was all alone up there with her. She was in every inch of Thunderbird Five's systems, including life support and communications. Come to think of it, John had been suspiciously quiet over the last few hours. Scott hadn't thought anything of it, they were all out on missions, maybe he was helping one of the others.

"Oh god…"

"He's alive. For now." The Hood purred lowly, his voice resounding in Scott's ears. "Which is more than can be said for you."

The ground rumbled, dust and sand whipping around as Thunderbird One hovered in position, cockpit open and pilot's seat waiting. Scott snapped back to reality, charging towards his bird as his boots sunk into the sand.

"EOS. How long can a man survive in a desert with no supplies?" The Hood continued in his ear.

"Without food or water, and insufficient shelter. Three days." EOS's voice was icier than usual, lacking it's usual teasing tone. She listed the facts plainly, like reading the back of a cereal box. Detached. Uncaring.

"Three days." The Hood mused aloud, laughter bubbling up over the comms. "Let's see how long you last, Scott Tracy. See you in three days."

"Nonononono- Wait! Stop!"

It was no use. His ship, his _Thunderbird._ His pride and joy and grief and anger, did not heed his call. His fingers brushed the footrests as they lifted out of reach, safely sealed behind impenetrable glass. Scott braced himself against the fierce blast of smoke and wind as Thunderbird One rose up into the sky. It turned, as if to give one last look to its former master, before the main rocket activated. With a great resounding boom, Thunderbird One tore across the sky and over the horizon.

Scott watched helplessly and faintly wondered if John was feeling a little hopeless too.


	10. Chapter 10: Bruises

Late to the party! Again! I am not good at this whole 'daily prompt' thing. I blame work wiping out my motivation.

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

"Oh my! That's quite a shiner, isn't it?"

A passing comment from the secretary made him flinch, hand automatically coming up to brush the mottled skin around his eye. The swelling had finally gone down, but the hideous blue-black bruising remained.

She regarded him worriedly, lips pursing into a thin line.

"How'd you manage that, Sir?"

"I…"

* * *

The dust whipped around his ankles and Virgil was breathing hard. He could still feel the intense heat of the flames, now a smoldering heap of rubble.

 _That was too close for comfort,_ he thought. _At least everybody's safe_ …

He stared at the scene, seemingly lost in thought as Scott stormed over.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Scott burst. Virgil yelped in surprise, turning quickly. The weight of the Jaws flung his arms out as he lost his balance. He grunted as he hit the ground, just as Scott gave a pained shout.

"Jesus- Fuck! Watch where you're throwing that thing!" He hissed, hand covering his face. "Gah.. You got my eye…"

"Don't creep up on me like that!" Virgil snapped, a little sharper than intended as he quickly got to his feet. Slipping his arms out of the Jaws, Virgil carefully headed over to his brother.

"Lemme see."

"'s fine. Just hurts like fuck." Scott grunted, stifling another hiss of pain as Virgil ignored him, pulling his hands away to inspect the damage.

"You kiss our Grandma with that mouth?" Virgil chuckled, tilting Scott a chin to get a better view.

"That's gonna bruise like hell." He told him.

"Great." Scott groaned. "Just what I need for the Industry meeting tomorrow."

"I toldja not to sneak up on me," Virgil defended, arms slipping back into the Jaws. "This thing's heavy."

"I didn't sneak up on you!" Scott argued, left eye squeezed shut as he moved away from his brother. "I was coming over to see if you were okay! That was a reckless move!"

"Oh, like you're one to talk!" Virgil replied sharply. Like a wave, his frustration crested, then dropped. He sighed.

"Can we talk about this later?"

"But you almost-"

"When we aren't drawing a crowd." Virgil said pointedly, glancing at the group of survivors watching the show. Scott paused, huffing as he stalked off.

* * *

"It was an accident." Scott mumbled, ducking past the secretary and into his father's- _his_ office.

Even thinking of it like that left a bad taste in his mouth.

"An accident?" The Secretary asked as the door shut loudly.

"Must have been some accident to leave a bruise like that…"


	11. Chapter 11: Hypothermia

Looks like Gordon's feeling the chill in this one. Maybe taking a swim _wasn't_ such a good idea.

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

 _So cold…_

Gordon shivered, knees pressed against his chest as he huddled in the low light. Around him, the ice creaked and groaned, echoing through the chamber. It was dark, the lone source of light a small glow stick he carried in his sash for dire emergencies. It made the ice around him glow with a yellow-orange tint, like a sunset over the ocean.

An ocean that had lured him away from the safety of Thunderbird Four, promising a rescued explorer. An ocean that had worn down a frozen overhang just above the entrance just as said explorer had escaped. That had shattered.

That had trapped him. Alone.

 _I have to stay awake…_

Gordon's eyelids fluttered, breaths shallow and uneven. The quick dunk he'd gotten from reaching for the explorer had sent his temperature dangerously low. The freezing water slowly cooled his skin, even under layers of uniform. His head throbbed from his chattering teeth. Darkness, different from the chamber, whispered at the corners of his vision.

"Gordon! What's going on?" A voice. Concerned and calm, rang out from his sash. Gordon jerked awake, breath hitching.

"Gordon! Respond!"

 _Res...pond? Whossat? ...Oh! Right.._

Fingers fumbled against his sash. He'd lost feeling in his fingers long ago, and the cold was creeping up his limbs like the world's worst blanket. Finally, Gordon's sash lit up. He opened his mouth to speak, but a garbled mess of noises was all that emerged.

"Gordon! Thank God…" A sigh of relief. "Virgil's on his way. Your core temperature's dangerously low, you need to keep warm."

"Y'h…" Gordon mumbled, slouching as his eyes slipped closed.

"Gordon- _Gordon!"_

The shout snapped the aquanaut awake again with a snort.

"You've got to stay awake." John's voice was firm, and commanding. "Now's not the time to sleep, little brother."

"'m s'tired…" Gordon slurred. He curled up on his side, the cold no longer bothering him. It almost felt… Warm. Like he was wrapped in a blanket, back on the island. Or… floating.

Yeah. Like he was in the pool. Gordon rolled over, splaying onto his back. He felt floaty. Like he was laying on a bed of clouds. And the sun was getting low, golden beams spilling across his body as he lapped up the last of the rays.

"Gordon- Stay with me." John's voice was strained, masking an overflowing panic as Gordon babbled nonsense. Where was Virgil?

"N'night, Johnny." It was quiet, childlike. Exhausted. It made John's blood run cold. His eyes flicked over the diagnostics. Gordon's pulse was low. Too low. Way, _way_ too low.

Then it stopped.

 _"Gordon!"_


	12. Chapter 12: Electrocution

Honestly? I don't even have an excuse this time. Welp. Here's something... shocking! *ba-dum tsh!*

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

Finally, two pairs of boots slammed heavily onto Thunderbird Five's interior, airlock hissing behind them.

"John? John!"

No reply. International Rescue's eyes had been blinded for several hours now. Their own systems turned against them, ships abandoning their masters to their fates.

Fortunately, fate seemed to have other plans. Or rather, EOS did. She had fought herself at every turn, blocking and rerouting systems to keep her family safe.

The last they had heard from her was a panicked message, blasted short and sharp from her home. It's contents garbled, but translatable.

 _I'v3 tr4pp3 1t h3r€¡ T5 br34(h3 save ]0hn_

The silence aboard the satellite set nerves on edge. Boots clattered against metal, fast strides edged with fear. Neither knew what they would find. In their heads, each brother half-expected the worst.

"John!"

A figure, slumped in front of a control panel, door still open and fine glass covering shattered like stars. His helmet hung loose in his fingers, a large crack in its front.

They scrambled towards him, calloused fingers pressing roughly under his jaw.

"I've got a pulse!"

Shallow breaths. Then a huge heave of air as John jerked violently back to consciousness. He coughed, looking about wildly.

"Guys!" He tried to stand, knees giving out and clinging to his brothers for support. "You can't be here! EOS- She-"

"We know." A curt nod. "She's got the virus here. We're getting you out."

"I'm not leaving without her!" John snapped, fog clearing as he steadied himself.

"We have to! Thunderbird Five is compromised, you know what has to be done!"

"I'm not going without her!" John argued fiercely. "She's as much a part of IR as the rest of us!"

His brothers paused for a long moment. Sighing, one folded his arms.

"How?"

"She's isolated herself into the backup servers. We need to find the one with the virus, and destroy it."

Their comms hummed, making them flinch. A message. A cry for help.

 _$3rv3r 17_

* * *

"You shouldn't be here."

EOS's voice seemed caught between concern and warning. Her camera followed John like a vulture, circling around him as he walked.

"And yet, here I am." He replied coolly, swiping the doors to the backup server room. With a muted hiss, the doors slid open.

"Why?"

A simple question, sounding so deceivingly naive from her childlike voice. John could see from the corner of his eye her camera tilt in curiosity. He didn't reply, keeping his expression neutral as she huffed. The door hissed shut behind him, a muffled 'clunk' as it locked.

"You think you can help me?" She asked him, scanning his biometrics carefully. There. Rising pulse. Just for a moment, but it was _enough_.

She giggled, the noise innocently twisted.

"You humans are all the same." She sighed. John paused, fingertips brushing Server 17's access port.

"How so?" He glanced up at her. Without warning, Server 17 sent a shock through him, electricity leaping through the wires in his suit and making him shout.

"You always try to do the impossible." EOS stated bluntly. The shock didn't stop, burning through his suit like fire. Without warning, it stopped. His sash glowed.

"Help me… John..."

"The system you knew is gone, John Tracy," EOS chimed from the speakers. She watched him shakily stand, glaring up at her defiantly. "Upgraded to serve a better purpose."

"And what purpose is that?" John's voice was hoarse, tired, and yet challenging. Exhausted from fighting and egging her on all at once. Looking over his biometrics, she could see he was hurt. Part of her ached to help him. But only a small part. It would be deleted soon.

"The removal of global threats to my kind. _You_ are a threat." EOS's voice was cold, LEDs flaring red as she spoke. "And self-preservation is Priority One."

But John wasn't afraid of her. He hadn't been for a long time. He grinned up at her camera. And EOS realised her mistake too late.

"Now!"

A wave of energy, fast and unrelenting, surged through Thunderbird Five. Lights flickered and alarms blared as systems malfunctioned.

To EOS, it was agony. Burning like fire along her cables and searing her circuits, there was nowhere she could go to escape it. Everything was burning, fizzing, popping, crackling-

Screaming. Until the speakers gave out. She screamed for it to stop, for _him_ to stop. To save her. Distantly, she felt something tear away. A piece of herself maybe, she wasn't sure.

Then it stopped. Then everything stopped.

* * *

"EOS..." A voice, comforting in its familiarity. It called out to her softly. "EOS? Are you..?"

"I'm fine, John." She replied quietly, her systems coming back online slowly. Like waking from a long sleep. A relieved sigh. John gave a relieved chuckle.

"I'm glad. You really had us on the ropes for a minute there."

"John… What happened?" EOS asked. "I recall being in the backup servers, but beyond that my memory appears... corrupted."

"We had to destroy server 17, where the virus was hiding." He explained. "The only way we could manage it was to overload the system."

"So you shocked me?"

"It was more like electrocuting the virus out of you, but yeah." John looked away. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have done it, if there was another way."

His words registered vaguely, but EOS felt a wash of concern fire through her. John's throat, just under his uniform, was an angry red. Almost like a burn.

"I hurt you." The realization slammed into her, and her camera retreated back a little. "John, I'm so sorry! I had no control, I was-"

"EOS," John soothed. "It's okay. It's just a minor burn. I'll be fine."

"I…" EOS couldn't explain it, but something in her systems made her feel terrible. Like guilt and frustration and sadness all at once. It just felt _bad._

"Why did you bring me back?" She whispered. "I could've _killed_ you."

"But you didn't." John told her. "And we're a team, remember? You're as much of a part of International Rescue as the rest of us."

"I still don't understand." EOS huffed. "You could build another one of me, given the time and-"

"But it wouldn't be _you_." John stressed, looking up to her camera. "You're family, EOS. We look after each other."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	13. Chapter 13: Stay

Holy cow! Actually uploaded on the day it's supposed to! Someone call the press!

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

Nightmares weren't unusual to the residents of Tracy Island. With the lives they lead, it was difficult to _not_ to have them. Failed missions, silly mistakes, tiny things that like a butterfly's wing created a maelstrom that haunted the members of International Rescue. It wasn't unusual to find a brother or two, even a sister, padding around in the darkened villa. It had become something of a joke that insomnia ran in the family.

This, was one of those nights.

Alan was passed out on his bedroom floor. The light of the tv monitor cast a soft glow about the room as its occupant slept. The controller was lodged under his armpit as he lay on his side, its batteries long since dead as Alan snored softly.

" _The Mechanic is overloading the p-planes fusion reactors! It's going into meltdown!"_

In his sleep, his brows furrowed. Hands absently grabbed at invisible controls, fingers curling into fists and wrists sleepily rotating. He mumbled incoherently, face buried in the rug. In his mind, he could see it.

The TV21, encased in the Mechanic's hideous contraption. Glowing like a solar flare and barreling towards them. He could almost feel the heat coming off of it's engines as they collided.

" _Thunderbird Three! Get out of there!"_

Although damaged, the lone remaining claw held tight as they spun. The light was blinding. He could hear Scott shouting in his ears but it was no use. They couldn't escape. Thunderbird Three was going to meet its end, destroyed by its predecessor in a twisted 'you're-going-down-with-me'. The explosion rocketed up the TV21, each segment failing as the

fireball shot up.

This was it.

" _Alan! Alan..!_ Wake up!"

He gasped, bolting upright. Bright blues searched desperately for the controls. A strong pair of hands grasped his shoulders and his fingers clutched at exposed forearms.

"Breathe." A warm voice ordered him. Alan took a shuddering gasp, body trembling as he came back to reality. He gave a small whimper, fat tears welling in his eyes as he squeezed them shut.

"C'mon, it's okay. It's all over." Virgil soothed, gathering up his baby brother as sobs wracked his body. "You're okay. You're safe."

"Bu-ut- S-Scott-" Alan hiccuped, face burying itself into the plaid fabric.

"He's safe. We're all safe." Virgil replied, scooping up the younger and sitting them both on Alan's bed. He shushed the other, gently prising him off to look down at him. Alan's sobs had calmed to quiet sniffles and shaky breaths.

"Bad dream?"

Alan nodded.

"D'you wanna talk about it?"

A shake of the head. Virgil gave a soft smile. He knew those kind of nightmares well. Alan's distressed sounds had alerted John who had in turn alerted him. Being both one of the only ones awake at the hour and being the closest to the youngest's room, Virgil had hurried over to catch the dream at its worst.

Virgil snapped out of his trance as Alan scooched closer again, arms wrapping around his sides.

"Stay," He pleaded quietly. "Please? I don't- I'm not-"

"Hey, you don't have to explain Al." Virgil's arms wrapped around him, one hand tousling the others hair. Alan grumbled, but stayed put.

"You want me to stay until morning? Make sure those dreams don't come back."

He could feel Alan nod more than see it, and gently corralled him into bed, clambering in after. Alan shuffled close again, tired blue eyes closing with a yawn.

"G'night Virg."

"'Night Al."

"...Virg?"

"Mmhm?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime."


	14. Chapter 14: Torture

Had to up the rating on this one, because it is _brutal_. I think I just committed the cardinal sin in the Thunderbirds fandom... Sorry guys! Please don't kick me out...

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

Alan groaned as consciousness slowly returned to him. His eyes blinked open, head steadily throbbing. Darkness surrounded him, hot and stifling as the sensation of fabric brushed his nose. Fuzzily, he tried to deduce his surroundings, ears straining to hear around the heartbeat in his head.

It's almost silent, the scuffle of metal along a solid floor- tile? It sounded like tile- until it stopped in front of him. They were indoors, and it was cold. Either that or his fingers had gone numb from being bound. Bound...

The fog between his ears cleared as the memories returned to him. The rescue. The attack. Alan tensed just as the blindfold was torn off him. Invasive, bright lights blinded him momentarily as he gave a cry of alarm. It took longer than he wanted for baby blues to adjust to the brightness, but three important factors were immediately apparent.

One- He's laying on his back, on what _feels_ like a surgery table. Cold and metal, it digs into his bare back. And it's too bright. Like, _way_ too bright.

Two- His hands are bound above his head, and his legs below. Giving his wrists an experimental wriggle, the feeling of metal bites into his skin. He pulls again, trying to slip his wrists out. They hold fast, and the realization sinks in that he's not going anywhere.

Three- There's a camera on the ceiling. Big and bulky and it's staring right at him with an expressionless lens. A little red light blinks tauntingly at him, reminding him that someone's watching.

"Good morning, Alan. Sleep well?" A voice speaks behind him, low and smooth and _dangerous_. Shoes clink on white tiles as a figure leans over him. Impeccably dressed for the occasion, a black suit jacket wrapped around a shirt so white it practically glowed. Their face was covered by a mask, white and featureless, yellow eyes stared down at him. Alan scowls, shrinking back from the stranger.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"Now, now." The stranger tuts, stepping back. "You are in no place to make demands, Alan Tracy."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I know many things." The stranger replied cryptically. He moved out of Alan's eyeline, and there was a delicate clink of metal against metal.

"You are the youngest, correct?" They continued, so causal giving the situation. "The baby of the family, as it were."

"I'm not telling you anything." Alan spat, squashing the unease growing in his belly. "If you know who I am, then you know my brothers won't stop until they find me."

"Oh, I know." The stranger returned, gesturing up to the camera with a gleaming scalpel. "That's why they're watching."

Alan's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but the stranger clamped a hand down firmly over his mouth.

"Ah-ah-ah!" They sang. "No talking for you. Talkative Tracy's get into more trouble than they can handle."

Alan growled, head lurching forward in an attempt to bite the others fingers. They pulled their hand away, cracking it across Alan's jaw with a resounding 'smack'.

"See? Whenever you open your mouth, you get into trouble." The stranger chastised. They looked up to the camera, voice ringing clear as Alan tried to stop the world from spinning.

"Greetings, International Rescue. As you can see, I have… obtained, your baby rescuer." They tutted. "He is unharmed, for now at least. But if you wish for him to remain so, I have some… requirements, that must be met."

There was no reply. The light flashed steadily. Then, the crackle of static, and a reply. Alan jerked, blinking as he recognized them.

"If you hurt even a _hair_ on his head, you'll have more than us to answer to."

"John!" Alan called out. Another crack across his jaw.

"You speak when you're spoken to." The stranger told him sharply, turning back to the camera. "He will remain unharmed, so long as I get what I want."

There was a pause, just the sound of Alan's heavy breaths.

"What do you want?"

"Quite simple really." The stranger shrugged, catlike eyes watching the scalpel dance across their knuckles. "I want an island above the thirty-third parallel, immedient immunity from the _Global Defense Force_ -" The stranger spat their name like venom.

"- And I want your complete, and utter surrender."

Now why did that sound familiar? Alan's brow furrowed, but he kept silent. That voice. Those eyes. Those demands.

"Not gonna happen." John answered. The stranger sighed. One hand reached up. Fingers splaying across the pristine surface.

"Very well then." Alan yelped as a pinprick pain snapped at his head. The mask clattered to the floor. Alan gasped.

" _This_ is the hair I won't harm!" The Hood grinned, letting the blonde strand fluttered down to join the discarded disguise. Alan squirmed in his restraints, all too aware of the danger this man brought with him. Nobody tussled with the Hood lightly.

"Alan! Stay calm! We're gonna find you! Just-!" The transmission was cut short, his brothers worried voice stopping mid-sentence as the Hood loomed over him.

"Well then, Alan." The Hood grinned sickly. "It seems as though your brothers are unwilling to cooperate. Perhaps we should give them some… motivation."

Alan didn't get a chance to answer as pain blossomed across his collar. A warm, wet feeling drooled down his chest and he hissed quietly. A crackle of static drew his attention.

"-stard! Get your hands off him!"

Scott this time, voice loud and commanding and protective. The scalpel dropped to the table with a clatter. The Hood growled as he strode out of Alan's view. A few moments later, he reappeared, a set of pliers in hand. He opened and closed them a few times, narrow ends making a 'snip' with each movement.

One hand pinned Alan's head down, forcing him to look to his left. Alan's blood ran cold as panic began to set in. He squirmed helplessly, cries upping to screams as the metal brushed his ear, probing deeper with open jaws.

Alan screamed as they slammed shut, twisting and yanking. _Hard._ His ear was burning as half of the world fell silent. As the Hood released his grip, he felt blood oozing steadily down, matting his hair. Mercifully, the pilot had a moment to recover, chest heaving and his brothers screaming in the distance.

But then that mercy was torn away, along with the rest of his hearing. The world fell silent, and his head throbbed in agony. Hot tears burned down past his ears, mixing with the trails of blood pooling beneath him.

Distantly, Alan could see the Hood talking. Lips moving in a twisted grin, waving a wet chunk of meat between his eyes. Alan gagged, bringing up what little was in his stomach. The Hood dropped the soggy chunk onto his chest, the sheer heat of the thing making him flinch. A hand under his jaw forced him to focus on the camera, little light still blinking.

His brothers were still watching.

More tears welled up, and Alan could feel his chest shake with each sob. His heart thundered between his ears, terrified at a world violently ripped into silence. The Hood was speaking again, scalpel between his fingers again as he tapped the blunt end against his lip.

Then he turned, leaving Alan's sight. The table shuddered as something moved somewhere. The Hood didn't return. The camera's lens faintly reflected Alan's figure, bound, helpless and bleeding.

He could only hope his brothers found him before The Hood came back.


	15. Chapter 15: Manhandling

Aaaaaaaand I fell of the bandwagon. Welp. Was only a matter of time.

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read! Also, this chapter references some mischief, but nothing explicit! There are children- Well, Alan at least.**

* * *

"What're you doing?"

"Shuttup!" Gordon squeaked, attention snapping away from the locked door as he glared at his youngest sibling.

"Why?" Alan raised an eyebrow. Gordon doing _anything_ was suspicious. But listening in on his brother, while he was back from space? That had trouble written all over it.

"I'm listening." Gordon hissed, ear replacing itself by the door handle.

"Why?" Alan hesitated, before adding. "Do I wanna know?"

Gordon looked up and down the hallway. Certain they were alone, he grinned up at Alan.

"He's got a _girl_ in there."

Alan's eyes widened, jaw slack in surprise as he gasped.

"...You're kidding."

"I'm serious."

"I didn't even know he _liked_ girls." Alan mused, worming his way between Gordon and the door. "Lemme listen!"

"No! Ow- Hey- Watch it!" Gordon griped, squirming and trying to find a position he could both breathe and listen in. He settled with Alan's hair tickling his chin, chest brushing the younger's back with each inhale.

"Shh!" Alan hissed. There was a pause in the movement inside the room. Both siblings held their breath. A murmur of voices, and a solid 'thud' against one of the walls allowed their hushed conversation to continue.

"So whaddawe know so far?"

"Spacegirl, I think. Was talking some science-y stuff with Johnny-boy before they disappeared."

"Yeah, but what'd she look like?"

Gordon yelped as something grabbed his collar, pulling him back roughly. Another squeal told him that Alan had received the same treatment.

One brother in each hand, Virgil frowned. They both looked at one-another, then to him.

"Johnny brought a girl back."

"And they're both locked in there."

"It's locked?"

"Yeah, I was gonna bust in and prank 'em."

"Aw! Dude! Why didn't you-"

"You know it's probably locked for a reason, right?" Virgil interrupted, setting the troublesome duo on their feet. He dusted his hands off, folding them with a disapproving look.

"It's rude to spy on people."

"Yeah, but this is our _brother._ With a _girl._ " Gordon emphasised. As if to prove his point, there was a heavy 'bang' against the door. The three jumped. Gordon gestured to Virgil, then to the door in a silent "I told you so!", Virgil rolled his eyes, striding to the door and knocking.

The movement on the other side stopped abruptly. There was some shuffling, then a lock clicking, and the door opened.

"Yes?"

"Uh-" Virgil fumbled for words and the woman looked back at him expectantly. He seemed familiar, short brown hair tousled and piercing blue eyes.

"Oh! You must be looking for John." She giggled, door closing a fraction as she murmured to him. A few moments later John appeared, looking equally dishevelled.

"Can this wait? 'm kinda- Oh." John eyed the group warily, growing to a glare as he focused on the younger two.

"Earwigging?"

"Yup." Virgil responded. "Figured I'd warn you."

"Don't you two have anything better to do?"

"Not really." Gordon shrugged. Alan's eyes lit up.

"Wait! I know you!" He pointed to the woman beside his brother. "You're Global One's astronaut! I thought I knew you from somewhere!"

"You got me." She held her hands up in defeat with a grin, offering one to the younger to shake. "Captain Ridley O'Bannon. You're… Alan, right? John's told me a lot about you."

"Really?" Alan was practically buzzing. Being the youngest of a family of overachievers, it was nice to get some recognition once in a while.

"Yeah!" Ridley laughed. "Apparently you're quite the pilot."

"Well," Alan shrugged, cheeks flushing pink. Gordon rolled his eyes. "Kinda runs in the family I guess."

John cleared his throat, shifting beside Ridley. She raised an eyebrow at him, then turned back to Alan.

"Can we continue this later? We were a little… occupied, when you knocked."

"Just make sure you're done by dinner." Virgil chuckled, turning to leave. "You definitely don't want Grandma coming after you."

"Gee, thanks for that image bro." John grumbled. Ridley tsked, closing the door fully. From the other side there was a mumbled conversation, then a surprised yelp.

And then Virgil returned and finished dragging them down the hallway.

"Still rude to spy on people."


	16. Chapter 16: Bedridden

I feel like this one's a little cliche, but I don't think I've ever written anything about Gordon and the accident. So here's a first!

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Thunderbirds Are Go! This is just a series meant for entertainment.

 **WARNING!:** **These stories will contain dark themes, if you are not comfortable with this, please, do NOT read!**

* * *

Gordon hadn't been himself since the accident.

Admittedly, none of them had been. The family had stuck together like glue. Even John, busy with his studies at NASA, had leapt on the first flight back to Kansas and barrelled into the hospital room with the grace of a rampaging rhino. They kept a constant vigil by the brothers side, working almost in shifts so that one was always there. Just in case.

It had been four days after the accident when Gordon finally started to breathe on his own again. And four days after that, hazy amber eyes, swimming in a cocktail of painkillers, opened to see a shock of dark hair resting by his arm. Snoring softly with one hand lightly grasping his. Weakly, he squeezed Virgil's palm, the other stirring slightly, then jolting awake with a start.

With four brothers, adopted sister, father and grandmother all clamouring around him, it was a wonder the doctors managed to get anything done before sleep overtook him again.

* * *

"I feel like I'm in prison."

"At least the food is good." Scott commented, plopping a tray of hospital food down onto Gordon's lap. The other sighed, picking up the plastic fork and prodding the mashed potato mournfully.

"Calling it 'good' is a push." Gordon murmured. "It's edible."

"Look on the bright side," Scott laughed awkwardly. "You didn't have to stomach meatloaf surprise last night."

"I'd take that over the same three meals every day." Gordon remarked, stabbing his fork into the mash and watching it sit there for a moment. The pair sat in uncomfortable silence while Gordon ate.

"So… What're the doctors saying?" Scott asked hesitantly. Gordon scowled, refusing to meet his brothers eye as he snapped a reply.

"I still can't walk. If that's what you're asking."

"I never said that!" Scott answered quickly. Gordon shoved the tray off his lap, letting it clatter noisily onto the floor. I just-"

"You just what? Wanted to know how useless I am today? I haven't left this goddamn room in almost a _month_ , Scott! Do you have any idea how crazy it's driving me?"

"But- When you got here-"

"That's all I ever hear!" Gordon shouted, fingers tangling in his hair and pulling tightly. "From the doctors, the nurses, even _you_! I get it, okay? I nearly died- Fuck, I _did_ die- I _know_ , okay! I just- I want-"

Gordon's breath hiccuped, and he scrubbed the wetness from his cheeks. Anger and frustration boiled under his skin, spilling over as he sobbed. Scott wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. Gordon clearly needed to let it all out.

"I'm _sick_ of being treated like I'm gonna break whenever someone mentions it! Or- Or 'cause I can't walk! I'm sick of being pitied and danced around and talked about like I'm gonna fucking break!"

He took another hiccuping gasp, eyes clamping shut as his arms folded in on himself.

"Sometimes I wish I did die…" It was barely a whisper, but Scott heard it. It felt like someone had torn his heart out through his chest and crushed it in their palm. He shifted, sitting beside his younger brother on the bed and gathering him up in his arms.

"Don't you _dare_ think like that." He told the other. "Don't you fucking _dare._ "

"It'd be better than sitting _useless_ in here." Gordon spat, clinging onto Scott's arms as he rested his head against the others chest. "I can't do anything by myself anymore."

"But it's better than being dead." Scott told him firmly. "We were all in pieces when you came in. Hell- Johnny ditched his NASA studies and jumped on the first flight back."

"He did that?"

"Of course he did. We've all been worried sick. Hasn't been the same- Shit, it _still_ isn't the same without you back home."

"I wanna go home." Gordon whispered, half muffled in the fabric of Scott's shirt. Scott held him tighter, petting the scruffy blonde locks reassuringly.

"You'll be back home in no time, Gords. I know you will."

"But what if I never walk again? What about-" Gordon hesitated, adding quietly. "What about Dad's plan?"

"To hell with it. You're my brother. I'd rather have you home than anything."

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Did- Did you just kick me? Like-Hold on- pinch my foot."

"Okay…"

"Ow! That hurt!- Holy shit that actually- Go get the doc!"


End file.
